


Rainbow in the Dark

by Dulcinea



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, No Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28540782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulcinea/pseuds/Dulcinea
Summary: San Francisco, 1985: Vegeta meets someone at a rock club that really, obviously doesn’t fit in with the crowd whatsoever—and he can’t keep his eyes off him.
Relationships: Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36
Collections: Baby Buu’s Favs





	Rainbow in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Baby_Buu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baby_Buu/gifts).



Vegeta never expected to find someone like Goku in a rock night club in San Francisco. He stood out with his bright orange shirt and dark blue jeans. His hair was wild, and that fit in well enough, considering all the long-haired metalheads roaming the place. But he wasn’t head banging. He wasn’t joining into the circle pit and moshing. He wasn’t pushing his way to the front to see the band on the rail, and this man could’ve done that easily, considering the developed muscles Vegeta gawked at for most of the night. This man was gorgeous—breathtakingly gorgeous—and very, very out of place here. 

Everyone in the club was there for the band with metal t-shirts abound along with denim jackets, band patches, chain wallets and leather pants. The usual. But not this man. Not Goku. He not only looked different, he acted different. Hee looked so happy to be there. He bounced in place from where he stood in the far back of the club. He did little jigs in time with the rhythm of a song. He would’ve been perfect at a dance club, not at a hardcore metal club. But that’s what drew Vegeta to his side. That’s what made Vegeta become absolutely enamored with him. 

So it blew Vegeta’s mind when he didn’t have to say a word to him when he came up to Goku. Because Goku was the one who said, “Hi, I’m Goku!” His voice carried well over the booming bass and the screaming vocals—a chipper, cheery voice that really, really didn’t mix with the hardcore vibe in the club. 

And it was Goku who then said, “You look hot! Wanna get a drink?”

Just like that, they were at the bar, standing in front of each other. Getting to know each other—and it should’ve shocked Vegeta how easy it was talking to Goku. As if he knew him his whole life, when he had never met the man before. But he didn’t care, because this man—this tall, sculpted god-looking man in orange and blue—was not only the picture of pure joy, but he  _ knew _ his stuff. 

“I never cared for Anthrax,” Vegeta said. 

“Whaaa? They’re so cool!”

“They’re a lazy sounding band.”

Goku didn’t even take the bait. He shook his head, taking a swig of his beer before saying, “They absolutely rock live. Seriously. Joey Belladonna is a helluva singer!”

“He’s no Bruce Dickinson.”

“Okay, point, but who is? I mean, he’s probably the greatest vocalist in the world, aside from—oh crap, what’s his name—AH HA!” Goku clicked his fingers, pointing to Vegeta again. “Ronnie James Dio!”

Vegeta couldn’t suppress his grin. “You know Dio, hm?”

“Oh hell yes I do!” And then proceeded to talk Vegeta’s ear off on everything Dio. _Everything_ —including things even Vegeta didn’t know, and he considered himself the biggest Dio fanboy in the world. 

It didn’t bother him that Goku knew more about metal than he did. That he admitted to going all over the States and Europe to see a bunch of bands Vegeta only wished he could’ve seen, if he didn’t have obligations and bills to pay and a business to run. Goku had seen every band Vegeta dreamt of seeing. Some bands he named, Vegeta didn’t know. Hadn’t even heard of them. He was a photographer and a traveling music journalist for Kerrang Magazine, one of the hottest magazines for metal in Europe. Vegeta nearly  _ salivated _ at the thought of working for them. 

But all of this was okay. He held no jealousy, no anger. Because all of this gave Vegeta the opportunity he was waiting for, when the band was over and the crowd dispersed, leaving them at the bar with a few of the band’s crew taking down the set. 

“How ‘bout I come listen to some of those bands at your place?” Vegeta asked, finishing off the rest of his beer. 

Goku sheepishly laughed. “Ah, I would invite you, but… I don’t really have a place. I just crash on couches and stuff since I tour bands a lot of the time.”

“So you’ve got nowhere to go tonight?”

“Nope!” 

“I see.”

“But…” He watched Goku finish off his own beer, slam the bottle onto the bar table—and he almost squeaked when Goku closed the gap between them, kissing Vegeta right on the lips. A closed lip kiss. Soft lips. Sweet. Hands held onto his hips, and Vegeta’s cheeks heated up a bit when Goku whispered in a husky voice, “I’d be open to visiting yours.”

They barely made it to Vegeta’s car. Keeping his hands to himself, his lips off of Goku—it was almost impossible. He wanted this god of a man in his arms, in his bed, above him, below him, it didn’t matter. He never met anyone like him. Never conversed with someone who knew music as much as he did. Never had someone who was simultaneously innocent as well as devious. 

By the time they landed in his bed, all thought went out the window. Clothes flew. Teeth sunk into skin, hands roamed everywhere, the room spun, Vegeta moaned Goku’s name over and over, and Goku whimpered and cried his own—a sound Vegeta embedded into his memory that he knew he wouldn’t forget for the rest of his life. 

He thought that was it when the morning arrived. These one-night stands usually ended the same way: an awkward goodbye with shuffling to the bathroom, a wave or a parting kiss, phone numbers exchanged and never called. 

But Goku didn’t leave his side. Goku snuggled him the whole morning. Peppered kisses all over his face. Pressed his cheek against Vegeta’s and rubbed them together, giggling on top of his lungs. Rubbed their legs together. Nuzzled noses. It nearly overwhelmed Vegeta, to the point where he wanted to shove Goku away, but Goku bounded out of bed before that could happen. 

“Okay, let’s break out that record player!” Goku said, wandering into the middle of Vegeta’s studio apartment.

Vegeta admired Goku’s naked, sculpted ass for a moment before he said, “Stereo’s over there, on the right.”

Goku whipped around to face him, his jaw dropping wide open. “Stereo? STEREO?! Not a record player?”

“Uh… no?”

“Okay, nope.” Vegeta rose an eyebrow as he watched Goku hurriedly pick up his clothes and put them on. “Unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable.”

“Uhh—”

“You. Sit down, stay here, don’t go anywhere.” Goku snatched up his boots, sliding one on as he hopped over to the front door. “I have to rectify this mistake.”

“What?”

“See you soon!”

Half an hour later, Goku came back with a vintage record player and a plastic yellow bag full of old vinyl records hanging off his elbow. The bag read ‘Amoeba Records - Berkeley’ on the side. “Done!” He pushed past Vegeta. “Now we can listen  _ properly! _ ”

And that was the first day of their relationship. The day Goku moved in. The day Vegeta’s life changed forever. They listened to music all day, eating chicken wings and pizza and beer, talking about their favorite bands, their least favorite songs, the instruments they wished they could play—bass for Goku, drums for Vegeta—and so much more. The sex was secondary compared to what he felt around Goku. What Goku made him feel. 

Their relationship wasn’t an easy one. Goku traveling so much wore on Vegeta, and his anger and jealousy eventually did take a toll on their relationship, to the point where Vegeta blew up at him and Goku left for almost two weeks without calling or writing him a letter. 

He wasn’t going to give in first. No way was he going to give Goku the satisfaction. Let him go crazy in Europe. Let him have the time of his life while Vegeta toiled away at the business his father left him when he passed away—a business his father clearly had no idea what to do with, leaving Vegeta in a hole he had to climb out of. But he was doing it. The business was coming out of the red. He wasn’t like Goku, he couldn’t—Goku was free to do whatever he wished. To be with whoever he wished. Vegeta didn’t matter when Goku was rubbing shoulders with rock stars. 

It didn’t matter either that his mind told him  _ stop lying to yourself _ . He ignored his mind telling him  _ Goku cares about you more than his job _ . Because Goku still left. Goku left and wasn’t coming back and Vegeta wasn’t going to apologize for snapping at him, for telling Goku he was jealous, for yelling at Goku to go fuck a groupie or a rock star since he cared more about them than him. 

Halfway into week three, Vegeta called Goku late at night to say: “I’m sorry.” 

The two hundred dollar phone bill to talk to Goku in Spain for a little over a half hour was absolutely worth it. Because Goku came back. Goku returned, to him, to his stupid studio apartment—and he smiled like nothing changed. Hugged Vegeta like nothing wrong ever occurred. 

Vegeta kissed him that day, and every day since. Kissed him, held him, loved him, made love to him, listened to him, laughed with him, cried with him—everything with him. Everything with his Goku. Everything was better with Goku here. Everything was just right.

Now, it was twenty-five years later. They didn’t live in a crappy studio apartment near the Castro District of San Francisco anymore but a three bedroom home across the bay in San Rafael. Vegeta no longer owned a struggling business, but a thriving one, all thanks to Goku and his connections, his expertise and his support. Goku didn’t travel the world anymore—not alone, that is. Whenever Vegeta had the opportunity to go, he went with Goku, rocking out with him side stage, back stage, hanging with metal musicians, metal gods, fanboying with him as if they were in their early twenties again. 

They grew up together. They learned how to live through life together. They built a life of their own, together. All because Vegeta didn’t turn away from that weird guy standing in the back of the room, bopping along to the beat of the song like it was pop music, rather than hardcore thrash metal music. 

Vegeta finished fixing his tie in front of the closet-length mirror. They were only fifteen minutes away from the show tonight, featuring their favorite band: Heaven & Hell, with Ronnie James Dio as the lead singer. Their chauffeured ride to the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium wouldn’t be ready for a few minutes, but Vegeta was anxious. He was about to meet  _ the _ heavy metal god himself. He was going to meet his favorite musician of all time. Goku was probably more nervous than him, as he was the one who was going to be interviewing and taking photos of Dio. All Vegeta had to do was stand there, shut up and not faint or cry or do anything remotely stupid. 

Over his shoulder, Vegeta cried out, "You almost ready?"

"Almost!"

"Almost being, what, another half hour?"

"Oh shut up!" Goku poked his head out of the bathroom to glare at Vegeta, shaving cream around his chin and cheeks. "I have my suit on at least."

"Because I shoved you out of bed a few hours ago."

"Har dee har har. I had photos to finish editing, phone calls to make--"

"That could've been done if you woke up early this morning."

"Is it a crime I like to sleep late?"

"It's beyond late when you wake up two hours before interviewing Ronnie  _ motherfucking _ James Dio."

"Ugh. Whatever." He retreated back into the bathroom, muttering under his breath. A second later, Goku poked his head out again, wiggling his eyebrows. "Looking good, sexy."

"Shave, Goku."

"Alright, alright..."

Vegeta chuckled, running his hands down the front of his suit. He was ready. A quick glance to the clock—half an hour left—and he started walking around the room, gathering up their wallets, cameras and anything else needed before they left.

Fifteen minutes passed and Goku still wasn't done. Vegeta told the driver that arrived early they needed five more minutes, and then called Goku’s boss, the band manager, Dio’s assistant and Goku’s colleagues already at the venue that they'd probably be there in fifteen or so. None of them were surprised. Goku’s boss even said, 'Yep, Goku hasn't changed.' But there wasn't a sign of malevolence in his tone, only mirth. After years of working at Kerrang, everyone knew about Goku and his tendency to forever be fashionably late. 

Still. Old habits died hard. And this was one Vegeta wished died a long, long time ago.

"Goku!" Vegeta knocked on the bathroom door. "Time's up. We have to get going now." 

"Five more minutes!"

"Your five minutes just happened five minutes ago!"

"Ugh, fine! Come in and help me out with this then."

He opened the door. "I don't see what—”

Vegeta paused as he saw Goku with his left index finger taped up in white. He held between his teeth the ends of another, the right index finger resting on the bathroom sink's edge—and a bloom of red seeped through the bandage. 

Goku raised his eyebrows. "Well?"

"You cut yourself?"

"Duh."

“How?!”

“You know I’m no good with a shaver!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” 

“Are you going to help me or not?”

Vegeta growled under his breath, shook his head and came to Goku's side, gently taking the tape from his teeth. "Idiot.”

"I’ll be fine. I’ve done worse to myself, y’know."

"Don’t remind me." He stretched out the tape and wrapped it around Goku's index finger, taking his time circling the adhesive around. And as he finished, Vegeta chuckled softly. "I just can't believe it."

Goku rolled his eyes. "Look. I know I should’ve asked for help—"

"That's not what I mean." When Vegeta finished, he hooked Goku's index finger over his own, his thumb keeping it in place. "I meant this. You. Everything." Vegeta leaned down and kissed Goku’s knuckle. “Thank you.”

"For what?”

He glanced up at Goku with hooded eyes and said, loud and clear, "For being the best thing that ever happened to me.”

A pink blush blossomed on Goku's cheeks. "Vegeta..."

"Heh." He let go of Goku's hand to touch his heated cheek. "Love that I can still make you blush like that." He kissed his lips for a brief moment, and then quickly pulled away before that too became heated. "So. You done now?"

Goku chuckled. "Yes, Mr. Impatient, I'm done."

"Finally."

“Dick.”

“Klutz.”

Goku pecked Vegeta’s lips with a small, fleeting, sweet kiss. “Love you too, V.” 

Their hands twined together as they left, palm meeting palm and headed out to the venue, ready for another metal adventure between the two of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I fulfilled what you asked for! This was super fun to write! :)


End file.
